would be the space my brother's body made. he was a little taller than me: a young man but grown, himself by then, done at twenty-eight, having folded every sheet, rinsed every glass he would ever rinse under the cold and running water. this is what you have been waiting for, he used to say to me. and i'd say, what? and he'd say, this -- holding up my cheese and mustard sandwich. and i would say, what? and he would say, this, sort of looking around.